


Sand Between Your Toes

by genee



Category: Popslash
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-29
Updated: 2004-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Where's your momma, honey?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sand Between Your Toes

There's a soft knock on her bedroom door and Britney sniffles a little, blinks her eyes in the flickering dark. The candles she lit earlier are all but sputtered out, and she doesn't feel any better than she did before, just worn out and lonely, sore and achy from the London damp. She's done with crying, she thinks, and she's done with dancers, too. Done and done-er.

Still, when the door eases open and she sees those frazzled blonde curls, the tears just well up again, hot and salty, burning down her cheeks. Lynn doesn't say anything, just gathers Brit in her arms and holds her close. She feels so good, soft and warm and so fierce underneath, and Brit remembers how afraid she was after she and Justin broke up, afraid she might lose Lynn, too. Lynn's not like that, though, not like people think.

"Babydoll," Lynn murmurs, finally, smoothing Brit's tangled hair and tucking it back behind her ear. "Where's your momma, honey?"

Britney shrugs. "Home," she whispers, fingers curling in the open vee of Lynn's shirt, pale, freckled skin and Brit sniffles, nuzzles closer. _Home_ , Brit thinks, _Lynn smells like home_. Her momma only smells like her momma, perfume and expectations, just like everyone else. "It's only rumors, you know? It's stupid."

"Let me take care of this for you?" Lynn asks, and Brit knows Lynn could do it, knows she's the reason Justin's hardly ever in the tabloids now, and when he is it's ridiculous and over quick and it never really touches him, not inside, not where it matters. Lynn pulls away a little, looks in Britney's eyes. "A day at the beach shouldn't hurt you like this. It's just a day at the beach, okay? Just sand between your toes."

"Okay," Brit breathes, and Lynn's lips press against hers, barely parted but Brit remembers sticky lipstick and spearmint gum, and she opens her mouth a little more. "Thank you," she adds, her tongue darting out to taste Lynn's smile.

"Good girl," Lynn says, and Britney smiles, too.

Lynn undresses her then, so careful, and tucks her into bed, wraps her up in powdery cotton and her own warm body, and when she kisses Brit it's deep and hot and so fucking sweet that Brit feels herself trembling, all that emotion, tears in her eyes and her body just burning with it. "Please," she whispers, "Lynn, please?"

"Shhhh," Lynn says, her lips soft on Britney's skin. "It's okay, babydoll. I'll take good care of you," she promises, and Britney knows it's true.  
   
   


\-- End--


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